


Exposed/Watching it Burn

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: #ohfrickyoufoundyfics, Angst, F/M, Fire, Gay, Gay Male Character, Laurens is a cinnamon roll, Laurens needs a hug, Love Letters, M/M, Multi, No rainbow after the storm, Nonbinary Marquis de Lafayette, Religious Conflict, War, Why Did I Write This?, really really angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 17:58:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13686858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “You’ve put yourself in this mess and now you will watch it burn before you. Trust me, this is a favor. I don’t know when you'll understand. . .”“Mess? I was in love!” Laurens spat out the words, tears still fluently tumbling down his cheeks. “That’s not punishable!”Henry Laurens stared back with thin pupils struck with rage and acrimony, doubting John’s dedication to their family with every plead he made. Every resisting beg was another broken approval to the heavens. Henry would not abide by his disgraceful behavior anymore. “Your repulsive chosen affection has come to an end! I thought you were loyal to our savior! One more word of defiance and you are headed straight to hell! There’s no way I’ll “see the stupid light” of your fantasies! I swear these so-called love letters will fuel your pyre!”





	Exposed/Watching it Burn

“You’ve put yourself in this mess and now you will watch it burn before you. Trust me, this is a favor. I don’t know when you'll understand. . .”  
“Mess? I was in love!” Laurens spat out the words, tears still fluently tumbling down his cheeks. “That’s not punishable!”  
Henry Laurens stared back with thin pupils struck with rage and acrimony, doubting John’s dedication to their family with every plead he made. Every resisting beg was another broken approval to the heavens. Henry would not abide by his disgraceful behavior anymore. “Your repulsive chosen affection has come to an end! I thought you were loyal to our savior! One more word of defiance and you are headed straight to hell! There’s no way I’ll “see the stupid light” of your fantasies! I swear these so-called love letters will fuel your pyre!”

The week since Lauren’s family had found he and Alex’s letters had been fine. Externally, like on the outside. But looking in. . . Lauren’s life had become constant stormy turmoil.  
The shady unaccepting stares of people he once knew, clawing through his skull and engraving their resentment into his tainted soul. It was more then he could handle. He felt revering urges to hide himself; he pulled curly strands of hair down over his face. Something about those accusing stares activated the strongest urge he’d ever had; to hide. But briefly hiding his face from view wouldn’t stop their judgement, it wouldn’t stop his guilt from burning his heart and hollowing him out while malicious toxic self hatred erupted in his stomach. It was enough to make him vomit. Literally. Make that twice.  
When would it stop? The answer was given without even asking. They say, “You did this to yourself. Whenever you change your identity and longing for this Alexander Hamilton, you will be free.” Some kinder souls added, “Don’t worry, sweetie. You have what it takes to turn around and start over. You’re just confused.”  
The sky hadn’t brightened in days. Weeks! There was nothing comforting about the aphotic looking twilight-zone ghost town that his home and village had become, only full of beings he once knew, and a notion that he should be punished for who he was.  
Laurens was raised in a religious family. It was almost like a characteristic to be strictly catholic (if that wasn’t already strict,) coursing through his veins and DNA. Many people, even neighbors had turned upon him when he was exposed.  
“You have been around these religious role models all your life! When will you learn!?” He didn’t know. It was as if to calculate pi just to concentrate in his ill state. Everyone’s unethical stares told him he didn’t belong anymore. He was a rabid, venomous disease! No one wanted him near!  
Anything else he tried to become was untrue to himself but no longer an outcast to society, but saving his true self from drowning meant become someone or something toxic again. He felt a whisper that promised his hopes in his ear; come on! Just listen to what everyone wants! You’ll no longer be a mistake and disgrace! You’ll live normally among the rest of them! Trust me! This is what you want!  
It gave promises of Christ but he couldn’t help but feel he was speaking to Satan.  
A cave shattered around him, rock burying him alive when he was surrounded by all the unfamiliar faces. Every pang of hope was dissolved as another voice told him he was only a disappointment to everyone. 

The day when they found his letters was heinous.  
He hadn’t known. Until he got home.  
It was clear that he’d committed a crime, just the look on his parents’ and siblings’ faces were framing him for whatever the hell they were. Few words were spoken and the family was silent, just gazing at Laurens as locks of ginger curls fell over his eyes. Some wide gap of disrespect stood between them. The silence was killing him. They were in the dining room, some leaning against the wooden table, others sighing up against the wall. He was out of his American Revolution uniform, so he had no honor among him. All the bookshelves slowing cornered John while he wasn’t looking. He was to attentive; locked in his father’s ravaged gaze to pay attention to anything else anyway. Thump. Thump. Thump. His heart was loud enough to transmit pounding to his brain.  
Lauren’s father held up the letters, which were instantly recognized. How could he forget? You can’t expect a story of his love for Alex, though. He couldn’t open up anymore.  
Exposed.  
Everything from his true family disappearing to his father’s vengeance in his gaze indicated he’d done something terrible beyond belief. He couldn’t cope. He was suddenly a suspect in this ghost town and the blood was on his hands. And yet the one thing that John couldn’t grasp was the reason for his error. Where had he gone wrong? Had he truly been “exposed” if he couldn’t find fault in his love? Whether he deserved iniquity and discipline or not, he couldn’t erase the thought that he didn’t belong, and everything about him was wrong.  
He was a beast.  
Laurens had never wanted more in his life to hide. Just to fade away would be a relief. Shade wasn’t enough, invisibility wasn’t enough! Nothing was good enough for anyone, especially himself; he must be erased! He wasn’t good enough for this life. Any consequence was rightful! Why was he still even granted life! I know I can’t erase the past, or hide from everyone, especially not God, but if I could just take my life I. . .  
Please let me disappear. I almost want this more than to be with Hamilton.  
If tears left scars, you wouldn’t be able to bear even catching a cut glimpse of Lauren’s scarred cheeks. It was already hard enough to look at his expression; it was much to painful. The scars would probably be bolder than his freckles, and that’s hard to be.  
I’ve failed you all too much, I’m sorry I really am!  
Laurens was a frozen lake of emotion, shards of ice splintered off from the surface, while skaters, the haters, cut deeply into him, breaking him slowly no matter how much he didn’t want to admit it. Just a few more layers gone, and I’ll shatter, just you wait.  
He’d never felt so useless. So many things he couldn’t do.  
He was a barkless tree. I need warm, I need protection! No one replies. Something to hide in! Nope. Just a naked tree.  
“If you’re going down, we’re going down with you, mon ami.” Lafayette and Herc had promised him more times than he could count. About the Revolution, about Anti Slavery Acts, and even about straight out dying on the battlefield with him. Each time seemed more sincere.  
You couldn’t escape Lafayette or Herc. They just knew everything. There was no use in making the littlest fib. Lafayette’s eyes were still tied in Lauren’s. Ze sighed out misty breath.  
Laurens didn’t want to drag anyone else into this abyss of oppression that he was forced to believe he dug for himself. Like digging your own grave.  
“To hell? I don’t think so.” Laurens previously stated. Usually it was the other two from the life-long friendship that wouldn’t take no for an answer, but the justified hint in John’s voice clearly illustrated his grief and will to leave them out. “You’ve done so much for me!” Laurens choked, beginning to sob out of the depthful eyes. “I’m brOKen I promise!”  
“Shh,” Lafayette soothed, pulling Laurens into zir and Hercules’s arms. “You’ve suffered too much, my friend.”  
Laurens didn’t believe it. He knew he deserved worse.  
“Stay away from me. I-”  
“Mon ami-” Lafayette begged, holding him tighter.  
“I mean it! I’ll only hurt you too!”  
God, what more do you want! I’ve lost everything! I’m ready now. Take me; not into your embrace of course, send me to hell. Please. It can be your last gift to me.  
Eliza’s longing eyes had been another wonder to haunt Laurens. After everything, Alexander had gotten married to Eliza. He should be supportive. . . right? Ugh! John was a terrible person for his superficial happiness.  
At the wedding, the world had become a blurr. Lauren’s vision was clouded, and while Angelica was wishing the couple the best, he turned over and quietly threw up a couple too many drinks he’d taken while clutching the rich silk tablecloth in his hands. Was this a migraine? He could no longer hear Angelica’s voice, or anyone cheering beside him, it just sounded like bombs exploding still with muffled sound when anyone noise even came near his ears at all. Everything was numb.  
John couldn’t even do his own fake smile anymore, or feel silent tears leaking on his cheeks.  
He could still remember the looks of joy on the newly weds’ faces though, and after the whole event, he spoke with Hamilton, congratulating him, and when Alexander gave him a hug, the night didn’t seem so dark. His last memories of the night were Lafayette and Angelica speaking gravely to him, hinting that they knew and they understood.  
The Revolution was even more exhilarating than Laurens had hoped. Whenever he could, he’d sneak into an old farmhouse, and free some slaves, even eclipsing them beneath his own tent at night, and of course Alex, Herc, and Lafayette had kept this a secret too, just in case. But then, there was the battlefield.  
It was awesome. Well, feeling like a superhero was awesome, not so much staining yourself in pale blood. John fought with his passion for black soldiers. But other than that, he couldn’t help but feel that every close call and slim escape from a metallic bullet was a missed opportunity.  
Every time another enemy was fended off, Laurens raised his head from the battle zone to search for Lafayette, Alex, and Herc. Having his uniform and seeing friends beside him made him feel like there was actually something worth fighting for.  
The lamplight was too dim among the palest brown walls you’ve ever seen in John’s bathroom. He lunged himself forward over the sink again, pushing his guts into the marble surface. Pain and relief rippled through his body as more blood spurted from his throat down the drain. He knees were weak, and he lifted his head slowly, even sheepish to his own reflection.  
Look at what you’ve become.  
There was one thing that Laurens wouldn’t forget, and won’t let go, no matter how anyone required him to let go of his fault in this banned love; Alex’s promise; we go to hell together okay? I promise we’ll make it through too. You’re not alone.  
Sleek rivers dampened Laurens freckles again. Maybe for the last time.  
He didn’t want to cry anymore.

The preparation for the fire was when Laurens started to gain nerve. His father carried a sack full of letters out onto the open plain. Laurens sat nearby in some tangled ferns under the dark blue sky.  
“Burning them? That sounds like wrath,” retorted Laurens, shifting his eyes to follow Henry as he walked to the fire pit. His stomach hollowed a little. “If you didn’t already know, wrath is one of the seven deadly sins, but I still feel like you’re trying to convince me-”  
“IT’S NOT WRATH,” boomed Henry, thrusting the sack into the pit, scattering dust. “It’s passion to follow the rules.”  
His dead eyes gazed at Laurens for a second longer.  
“Why do you even have to follow these homosexual urges? I don’t give a crap that you “love” him! Just change! Can’t you?”  
“I was born like this. Love is not a crime, I just fell for him.” Laurens’s gaze was to the ground, his hand fidgeting in the grass.  
“Ha.” Henry laughed. It was a short sarcastic laugh that only faded into smoke and meant nothing. “Son, we are all born sinful. It’s our job to make it right.”  
But where’s the sin? Love is natural! Hate on the other hand. . . is chosen.

At last it was midnight, and the slaying time for the letters couldn’t be any more due to Henry. No more equanimity stood between the two men, just violence. Scowling, Henry lifted Laurens from his seat in the grass that he hadn’t left all day, and spun him around, tying his hands together behind his back.  
“Now you will see your punishment,” he growled, still clinging to the rope. He turned John around again to face the fire, which hadn’t quite had letters in it yet. Laurens looked like a weak prisoner of war.  
“Anything to tell me? Anything you regret?” Henry’s words burned holes in Laurens’s skin, and singed off the ends of his hair.  
Laurens thought for a moment, to lost in offense and helplessness, then replied in exasperation, “That’s discrimination. You know it. I know it. Just let me go! I’m like a slave to your perfect mold you want me to fit into. Oh and, Alex and I? Our love story? I’d do it all over again.”  
Thud. Laurens was thrown to the ground, mud painting the old rags he was dressed in. He writhed on the floor before sitting up on his knees in the crushed shrubs he’d squashed.  
“I shouldn’t be told how to love, I- please! Those letters are all I have left! Please!” The fierce John Laurens was now on his knees, looking like hell (OOOOOKAY I HAD TO PAUSE FOR THAT REFERENCE, THOSE HEATHERS FANS OUT THERE DON’T WORRY HEATHERS FANFICS SOON!) blood on the hand he folded together to beg with.”  
Henry’s eyes narrowed, glaring at John intensely. “Look what’s become of you.” He folded his arms, Laurens still as a statue. “All of your “love” all of your lust; look at the mess you are now.”  
Laurens gasped, catching his breath almost in a wince, tears sticking his hair to his face. There were few seconds before he’d crack, like dangling on the edge of a cliff.  
“No one will ever have to see your sickening romance, or explicit love ever again! Let this be a lesson,” Henry started, catching Laurens eye and inquisitiveness once more, “These letters,” -he held the sack above the fire and sparks started eating away at the fabric- “metaphorically, are you- kmm, a wrongful person. They are lifted from earth after death,” -the bag was raised higher- “and is burned to a second death in hell.”  
The moment the leather sack was dropped lasted a million years in Laurens’s heart. They fueled the fire, radiating flames and sparks closer to Henry and John. The last pieces faded in the air like stardust.  
Laurens’s eyes were thin and wet, and the rest of the day was a blur. Again. But he did remember; “You are sin. When will you learn?”

That’s just it. Sin. That word, it just explicates that everything about him is just wrong. Like being interrupted before you could introduce yourself; everything is assumed.  
Where had I gone wrong? Please! I want to know! Where. . .

The Laurens family had set their boundaries for John. While near Alex, no flirting, no blushing, no embracing, no touching, and most of all the act of pretending not to remember. You know. He was to act as a soldier to a general to the Alexander Hamilton he was once so close to, more than your average kind of bond. But now their was no chemistry.  
They’d also set an arrangement for him to meet a kind woman named Martha. He was sure she was nice, but he couldn’t help but hate the thought of meeting her. Then there was the voice;  
This is what you’re supposed to be. . .

Was this a clean slate? The evidence was gone, he could turn his life around! But, that’s not what he wanted. . . at all.  
Is this fate or a clean slate, of that matter I am unsure. Other than my dread, they’ve told me to keep quiet. Don’t act or say anything (gay) and no one will know. They can mute me, they can take me out of power, they can end me and send me to hell for all I care. But no matter the circumstances, they can’t stop me from thinking, and all of my thoughts are consumed by the one and only Alexander Hamilton. My love, someday we will have our freedom, and that’s something they can never take away.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Peeps! Be true to who you are! If you're not you, then what the crap is the point!? This fanfiction had some extreme homophobia, so try not to get triggered about anything... sorry. Sorry not sorry. Laurens is gay and I love it how everyone just knows. lmao. Thank you! Goodnight all you beautiful people!


End file.
